


It Feels Like the First Time

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine breaks his arm and has to undergo surgery. When he comes round from the anesthesia with Kurt at his side, he briefly forgets he's married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Feels Like the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this hilarious video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqebEymqFS8) and gifset (http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/99439565445/man-forgets-he-is-married-after-surgery-x)

“Papa, papa!” Elizabeth shrieked, running into the house, her curly brown hair a blur behind her.

Kurt looked up from the outfit he'd been sketching. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he took in the look of wide-eyed terror on his daughter's face. “What's wrong?” he asked, already on his feet and poised to spring into action.

“Daddy's hurt. He told me to get you,” she answered, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Show me,” Kurt directed, grabbing his cell phone off the desk and sliding it into his pocket before he followed Elizabeth out the door and into the backyard.

Blaine was sitting awkwardly on the ground next to the tire swing, his right arm drawn up to his chest, cradled gingerly by his left hand. “Honey?” Kurt called out as he knelt beside him, stomach twisting as he got a brief glimpse at Blaine's arm which was jutting out at an unnatural angle.

“Kurt,” Blaine gasped, leaning gratefully into his embrace as Kurt put an arm around his shoulders.

“What happened?”

“It's stupid, I was playing a game with Elizabeth and I slipped off the tire swing and landed right on my arm,” Blaine mumbled. “I think it's broken,” he continued, shivering in the early autumn chill.

“Yeah I think you're right,” Kurt agreed, feeling nauseous as looked more closely at Blaine's arm. “Do you think you could walk inside if I help you up?”

“I'll try.”

Kurt climbed to his feet, hands hovering over Blaine for a long moment, trying to find the safest way to help him up without worsening his injury. “I don't want to hurt you,” he worried aloud.

“I trust you.”

* * *

By the time Kurt got Blaine inside and seated on the couch, his face was grey and he was trembling visibly. Kurt dimly recalled learning about the signs of shock as part of the first aid and CPR course they'd taken just before they adopted Elizabeth. He grabbed a cashmere blanket off the back of the couch and draped it around Blaine's shoulders. “You hanging in there, honey?” Kurt asked as he brushed a lock of damp hair from Blaine's clammy forehead.

“Mhmm,” Blaine managed. “Just a little dizzy.”

“Okay, I'm going to call Isabelle and see if she can stay with Elizabeth while I take you to the hospital. You're doing great. Just a few more minutes,” Kurt encouraged.

Thankfully, Isabelle answered her phone on the third ring and promised she'd be there in five minutes. Kurt hung up the phone and immediately gave the good news to a visibly relieved Blaine.

“Hey Lizzie?” Kurt called as he poked his head into the kitchen. “Can you come out here?”

Elizabeth came running, clutching something in her hand. “Here, Daddy." She handed Blaine a bandaid decorated with pictures of Disney princesses. “I got this for you so your arm will feel all better, just like you do for me when I get an owie.”

Blaine smiled weakly, although Kurt could tell that even that was taking considerable effort. “Thanks sweetheart, I'm sure it will help,” Kurt said.

“I'm sorry I made the tire swing go too fast,” Elizabeth apologized, her chin quivering and her lower lip wobbling.  

 

“It's okay, honey.” Blaine soothed. “It wasn't your fault I got hurt. I wasn't holding on with both hands like I was supposed to.”

“Come here, sweetie,” Kurt requested, swinging her onto his lap. “Miss Isabelle is on her way to our house so you two can play while I take Daddy to the doctor so they can fix his arm, okay? I need you to be a big girl while we're gone.”

“I can't come?” Elizabeth asked, her face grave.

“No, it might take a long time and it'll probably be really boring,” Kurt said.

“But I could help, Papa?” Elizabeth offered, eyes watery.

Kurt sighed. They'd been dealing with some newfound separation anxiety ever since Elizabeth had started preschool at the end of August. She was always fine once she saw her friends and got into her routine at school,but knowing that didn't make it any easier to drop her off at school in the mornings while she was sobbing and clinging to him with everything she had. Plus, this was a far different situation. He hated that there wasn't enough of him to go around, that he couldn't take care of both Blaine and Elizabeth at the moment. A quick glance at Blaine was all he needed to strengthen his resolve. Blaine needed him right now, all of him, and he knew Elizabeth would be okay with Isabelle.

“Actually I do need your help with something,” Kurt said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“What?”

“Well, believe it or not, Miss Isabelle has _never ever_ seen Frozen. She doesn't even know the words to the songs like 'Let It Go,'” Kurt began.

“Really?” Elizabeth gasped, eyes wide. Watching Frozen was a weekly, sometimes daily ritual in the Anderson-Hummel household, so the idea of someone not having seen it was almost inconceivable to her.

“Yes really, but she definitely wants to see it and learn the songs, so can you tell her all about it and show the movie to her when she gets here? It will be a very big help, I think,” Kurt said.

“Of course, Papa. I better go get my Elsa dress and tiara!” she exclaimed as she ran off in the direction of her bedroom.

* * *

By the time Kurt got Blaine to the hospital, he was in pretty bad shape. He was grey and shaky, not to mention in obvious pain. He ended up needing a wheelchair just to get Blaine inside, scared he might pass out or fall otherwise.

He wasn't sure if they were seen relatively quickly because it was a slow night at the ER or because Blaine simply looked that awful. Kurt had a feeling it was a combination of both. The doctor and nurses were kind and competent, but that didn't make the exam and x-rays any easier. Blaine's arm was broken, quite _badly_ broken as it turned out, and no amount of gentle handling and soothing voices could relieve the pain. Kurt couldn't think of a time he'd ever felt more helpless than when he was forced to wait outside the radiology suite while the technicians x-rayed Blaine's arm. Being able to hear Blaine's whimpers and muffled sobs through the door without being allowed to hold and soothe him was pure torture.

Things got a little easier once the diagnosis was made. It took a few doses of morphine to make Blaine comfortable enough that they could splint his arm, but once that was over with, he was out like a light, thankfully. Kurt filled out an endless array of forms, updated Isabelle on Blaine's condition, and talked to the ER doctor and then to the orthopedic surgeon that decided Blaine needed a metal plate in his arm to help the broken bone heal properly. Mostly, he waited and worried.

* * *

The waiting while Blaine was in surgery was the hardest part. Kurt knew that Blaine was unlikely to die of a broken arm, but there were always risks involved, especially with anesthesia. Twenty-six years of taking care of his parents throughout their various health crises had made him more than a little pessimistic. Simply put, the Hummel family didn't exactly have the best track record with health problems and Blaine was his family now.

Kurt couldn't sit still, practically vibrating with anxiety and too much caffeine. To pass the time, he paced the floor of the surgical waiting room, texted Isabelle to check in on Elizabeth an annoying number of times ( _Bless Isabelle for having the patience of a saint_ , he thought after his seventh text to her in two hours), and answered twelve work emails. He was just starting to draft a reply to a thirteenth email when a nurse walked into the mostly deserted waiting room.

“Are you with Blaine Anderson?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kurt said, jumping to his feet, "I'm his husband. How is he? Is the surgery done? Did everything go okay?”

“He's doing just fine. He's in the recovery room. I can take you to him now if you'd like,” she offered, smiling reassuringly.

“That would be great,” Kurt breathed a sigh of relief.

The nurse led him down a narrow hallway, swiping her keycard to let them into a locked area. There was a large open room with at least ten curtained off cubicles with hospital beds in each.

She slid open the curtain in the far corner of the room and there was Blaine. He was awake and propped up on pillows, clutching a packet of saltine crackers in his uninjured left hand. His eyes were only open to half mast, but Blaine still gave Kurt a slow, sleepy grin as he entered the room.

“Hi honey, how are you feeling?” Kurt asked as he sat down beside Blaine, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“I'm goooood,” Blaine slurred. “Almost out of crackers though,” he announced, struggling to free the last one from its plastic wrapping one-handed.

Kurt chuckled. “I'm pretty sure we can always get more, silly.” He reached over, grabbing the packet from Blaine and tearing it open enough to pull the saltine free. He handed the cracker to Blaine, who was staring at him in amazement as if he'd just performed a complicated magic trick.

“Oh, _that's_ how you do it!” Blaine exclaimed, happily chomping on his cracker. “I tried to do that but my other arm is really heavy. Why is it so heavy?”

“...because you have a cast on it?” Kurt managed, trying not to giggle. _I must not laugh at my poor, injured, high-as-a-kite husband_ , he thought. _Or maybe I should bust out the camera on my phone and film this moment for posterity?_ Kurt ultimately went with the latter.

Blaine slowly followed Kurt's gaze. “Whoa, where'd that come from?” he gasped, staring at the cast that stretched from his right hand to his elbow. “Why isn't it pink? I wanted a pink one,” he pouted. He started to lift his arm off the pillow where it was resting and then winced, dropping it back with a low groan. “Owww...”

“Blaine,” Kurt scolded, a little sharper than he intended. “Leave that arm alone, okay? Keep it on the pillow. It's broken, remember?” He reached out and gently pressed against Blaine's shoulder, pushing him back to the bed.

“Oh no, it's broken?” Blaine asked, eyes wide. “Did somebody drop it?”

“Something like that...”

“Sorry Mister, I didn't mean to,” Blaine mumbled.

“Mister?” Kurt echoed, now totally confused.

“Sorry, can't read your name tag from here,” Blaine squinted. Kurt looked down at his shirt, confirming that there was no name tag in sight. “Are you my doctor?”

“I...” Kurt was honestly lost for words, wondering if there was some way Blaine might have hit his head when he fell off the tire swing. Clearly Blaine was still drugged to the gills, but to not even remember who Kurt was? That seemed extreme. Kurt thought back to years ago when Blaine had needed surgery on his eye after the rock salt slushy incident and remembered just how loopy Blaine had been when he'd come round from the anesthesia. Blaine had remembered Kurt's name that time, but that was about the only thing he knew. Kurt felt the knot in his stomach unspool slightly.

Kurt switched his phone to video mode and propped it up on the tray table, pointing it at Blaine before hitting the record button, certain that Blaine wouldn't believe this story later without proof. “No, I'm not a doctor,” he finally answered.

“You're not?” Blaine seemed surprised. “I thought you were a sexy doctor like on Grey's Anatomy. Are you sure your name isn't Doctor McDreamy?”

Kurt covered his mouth to muffle his laughter. “Nope, my name is Kurt.”

“Heyyyyy Kuuuuurt,” Blaine leered. “You're really pretty. Do people tell you that every day? I bet they do.”

“Sometimes they do,” Kurt replied with a smile, thinking about how often Blaine complimented him. Sometimes the compliments were gentlemanly and almost poetic, Blaine rhapsodizing about how the candlelight sparkled in Kurt's eyes or how the gentle slope of his nose and the smattering of freckles that decorated it were the cutest things Blaine had ever seen. Other times they were anything but gentlemanly, a stream of filthy sweet nothings whispered in Kurt's ear or mumbled into his neck while they had slow, languid sex.

“Hey c'mere,” Blaine stage whispered, gesturing for Kurt to come closer. Kurt obliged, leaning forward until they were close enough to touch. “Are you gay like me?”

“Yes, I am,” Kurt said, bemused. Blaine's face lit up like a small child's on Christmas morning.

“Awesome!” Blaine exclaimed, far too loud, especially when Kurt's ear was mere inches from his mouth. “Are you single?”

“I'm...married actually,” Kurt said, almost apologetically, holding up his hand to show Blaine his wedding band.

“Oh no, I wanted to ask you out. It's too late?” Blaine looked crestfallen.

“Not exactly...” Kurt took one look at Blaine's almost comical pout and decided it was time to come clean. Ridiculous though the situation was, he was always a sucker for Blaine's sad puppy dog eyes.

“It's not too late?” Blaine asked hopefully.

“We've actually met before, Blaine. You don't remember?”

“No,” Blaine gasped, jaw dropped. “That's crazy. I always remember the pretty guys. _Always._ ”

“We met in high school on a staircase. We dated for years and years. And about six years ago, we got married.”

Blaine looked like his head was about to explode. “So you're my boyfriend?”

“Not your boyfriend, your _husband_ ,” Kurt corrected.

“Whoa, whoa, that's...” Blaine paused for a long moment, his anesthesia slowed brain clearly struggling to take it all in and process it. “That's AWESOME!”

“I think so too,” Kurt grinned, leaning down to kiss Blaine's forehead.

“We're married?” Blaine asked again. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Damn, I've got the hottest husband in the whole wide world!” Blaine held up his left hand, waiting for a high five, and Kurt was happy to oblige.

After the high five, Blaine held his left hand a few inches in front of his face, studying it carefully. “Wait a second...” he said suspiciously.

“What?” Kurt asked.

“If we're married, why don't I have a ring like yours?” Blaine frowned.

“You had to take it off before your surgery,” Kurt explained patiently. “Hang on,” he continued, reaching into his pocket for his wallet where he'd carefully tucked away Blaine's wedding band.

“Surgery? I don't wanna have surgery,” Blaine fretted.

“You already did, honey. It's all over,” Kurt soothed.

“Oh, that's good,” Blaine sighed in relief. “That was a fast surgery. I guess cast surgeries are fast surgeries?” he asked. “Hey, that rhymes!” he giggled.

“You're ridiculous,” Kurt laughed. “Okay, here you go,” he said, sliding the platinum band onto Blaine's ring finger, feeling a flutter of excitement as Blaine stared at his hand, awestruck. Six years on and the novelty of being married to Blaine still hadn't quite worn off. Kurt hoped it never would.

The nurse slid open the curtain and stepped into their cubicle. “How are we doing in here?” she asked, walking over to the monitor to record Blaine's vitals.

“I'm married!” Blaine exclaimed cheerfully, holding up his hand to show her his wedding ring.

“Congratulations,” the nurse said, gamely playing along. “Is this your husband?”

“Yep, isn't he hot?” Blaine said proudly.

“Oh my god,” Kurt blushed. “You don't have to answer that.”

“It's okay,” the nurse laughed. “Patients say all sorts of weird stuff when they are waking up from the anesthesia. One of the job perks.”

“He's been _really_ out of it. Like he didn't remember who I was and that he was married to me – is that normal?” Kurt asked, still a touch worried. He took Blaine's uninjured hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

“Yeah, it can be. Everyone responds to the anesthesia a little differently. I wouldn't worry about it too much,” she soothed. She walked around the bed to where Blaine's right arm was resting on a pillow so she could inspect the swelling to his fingers. “Can you wiggle your fingers for me, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Other hand, Blaine,” Kurt laughed, as he felt Blaine's fingers wriggle in his grasp.

“Oops, sorry.” Blaine stared at his fingers poking out of the cast and after a short pause, managed to get them to move slightly. “Ouch,” he muttered.

“Does that hurt?” the nurse asked.

“Yeah, I don't like that,” Blaine said, lower lip wobbling.

“I won't make you do it again then,” she reassured him. She reached into the pocket of her scrub top and drew out a syringe, emptying the contents into one of Blaine's IV ports. “That should help with the pain.”

“Thanks,” Kurt said gratefully and she was gone with a wave.

“You okay, honey?” he asked once they were alone again.

“Yeah,” Blaine sighed. “I'm sleepy.”

Kurt smiled down at Blaine's slack face, brushing a curl from his temple. “Close your eyes.”

“Will you stay?”

“Of course,” Kurt whispered. “That's what husbands do.”

 

 


End file.
